Making you smile
by Unknown123190
Summary: All Yuki does is smoke, drink and write and it's affecting his mind - that is, until Shuichi shows up and is determined to him smile.


**Hi :) It's my first Gravitation fanfic and all, so…I dunno. Be gentle. **

**Tell me if it's crap so I don't waste my time on it anymore, y'know? However, if you do enjoy, please review and tell me. I've never been flamed but it sounds unpleasant so like…don't flame unless you feel it very very necessary =/**

**Enjoy … **

**1. Cheer me up, Shuichi.**

"It's an outlet."

"Whatever you say."

He turns back to the bar, reaching for the smudged shot glass with one hand, and snarls when the glass is snatched up by another hand. His friend eyes him with one upraised eyebrow, clicking his tongue. The bartender snorts at his distress and refuses to bring some more until he pays what he already owes.

"Give it back, Tohma," he orders, reaching over towards his friend's general direction. He's already had quite a bit, so he's disoriented and ends up knocking a woman's glass onto the floor. She squawks before grabbing her purse and leaving without another word to her friends. He's a bit too inebriated to notice that she's tall, blonde and attractive.

"Not until you promise me you're not going to do anything drastic. I understand that writing's important to you, but it's not good for your mental health, which is shaky at best to begin with," he retorts. "Come live with us. You can have your own section of the house…I just want to watch out for you."

The taller man snorts, absentmindedly fingering the top button of his shirt. He's given up on trying to retrieve his glass when the floor insists on dodging out of his way. He'll wait until it settles down.

"I'll live with you once hell freezes over," he grumbles grumpily. Tohma shrugs but doesn't hand him the glass back just yet.

"Then at least promise to take better care of yourself. We're worried, you know," he sighs.

"You're always worried. Don't you have a wife to fret over? Or you could always be honest and stop pretending you're not gay, because you are!" He meant to snarl that but it comes out as a slightly wavering drawl.

"I'm bisexual," Tohma clarifies, a little stung. "It's different."

"Is it?" the taller man snorts. He's too busy eyeing the ancient-looking phone next to the bartender lustily to notice much else.

"It is, and stop staring at the phone like that, you're scaring away the women…" he hisses, smiling charmingly at the women gawking at Eiri like deer. They don't seem very reassured at all so he gives up quickly.

"That phone's sexy…"

"I'm bringing you home."

And so out they go, Tohma holding a wavering blonde man as gently as he can considering Eiri seems prone to walking into large, solid objects. Once they make it to his car, he forces his friend into his car and ties his seatbelt before climbing into the driver's seat. He puts the car into the right gear and speeds off, ignoring his cell phone's piercing shrieks. Mika's concerns and problems would have to wait.

Once they arrive at Eiri's apartment complex, Tohma once again helps him out of the car but the writer straightens himself out before entering the building. He's afraid someone he knows – or more importantly, who knows him – will see him. He doesn't want to see his own drunken ass all over the tabloids with a headline about drowning his problems with shocking amounts of alcohol. Tohma follows behind him, waving cheerfully at the security guard taking refuge in the lobby. Eiri ignores him and wobbles quickly to the elevator, jabbing the up button several times more than necessary.

Eiri refuses to let Tohma come into his apartment and slams and locks the door in the producer's queer smiling face. The sound of the slamming door sends shockwaves through the writer's head; afraid of turning sober so soon, he goes to the refrigerator and pulls out three beers. He drinks them slowly on his couch, staring into nothingness, and thinking of how he has nothing interesting to think about – ever. What is he doing with his life? He wonders. He smokes, drinks and writes. He doesn't go out unless a family member drags him out. He doesn't date anyone, only fucks strangers and then kicks them out. It's not worth thinking about.

He falls asleep on the couch, a beer lying on its side on the hardwood floor, forgotten.

xXxXxXx

"You want me to…what?"

Tohma stared at the bubblegum-haired singer in front of him and retains a sigh. The sight of the eccentric boy alone gives him a persistent headache. The boy just can't sit still like any other 17 year old his age; he's squirming and jumping around. Hadn't he banned everyone from giving the boy any form of sugar…?

"I'm sure you heard me," says the light-haired president, folding his hands in front of him.

"But how am I supposed to cheer him up? I've read about him in the tabloids! He drinks and smokes all the time and all he ever writes about is two people being torn apart in the most violent and painful way possible!" his voice is so high that the president's water glass shatters. Tohma groans. "Oh…sorry," the boy giggles.

"I don't rightly know, but if you do this I'll arrange for you to tour with Ryuichi. How does that sound?"

As expected, the little singer explodes. As he abruptly sits up, the chair falls backwards and hits Tohma's expensive plant, sending it toppling over. The vase explodes and the carpet is covered in dirt and leaves. But Shuichi isn't quite done; he slams his palms down on the desk, pens flying up two feet into the air, eyes shinning so bright that Tohma covers his eyes.

"I GET TO SING WITH SAKUMA RYUICHI! Alright! Where does Mr. Yuki live? Tell me. Why aren't you telling me? Tell me tell me tell me tell me-" he is cut off when Tohma cuts into his head with his equally expensive samurai sword. He whimpers and curls into a ball as blood turns his face red.

"My secretary will give you the address. Now leave, Shuichi, and don't come back anymore. Do you understand?" He's smiling as he threatens the whimpering boy, pearly teeth shining.

"Yes master…" he cries as he ducks out of the room, rubbing his head. The uptight secretary is waiting for him and hands him a paper without a word. He opens it – it's Yuki's address.

He heads down to the recording room, only to find Suguru having a breakdown in a corner with Sakano and Hiro watching some apparently uninteresting cartoon on his IPod. He raises his head when his best friend enters the room but the other two seem to ignore him entirely.

"Don't get blood on my guitar," Hiro warns, waving his IPod around like K might handle a gun. Shuichi nods, the pain in his head and Tohma's dismissal somewhat dampening his excitement about the collaboration with Ryuichi…

"Hiro, I got a bunch of days off. Tohma wants me to cheer up his friend Mr. Yuki! Maybe I'll bring some strawberry pocky – WAIT! No, the strawberry pocky is mine. He can have chocolate, it's no good…"

While Shuichi continues to verbally determine what kind of sweets to bring this Mr. Yuki, Hiro turns back to his cartoon with one earphone in his ear.

"Do you think he's good looking? The tabloids say so…but the pictures are all blurry and ugly so I haven't seen him. What if he's ugly? Oh I bet he is…I hope I don't stare. One time I stared at this little one-legged kid and his mother…"

_A seriously disturbing amount of time later…_

"…the camel totally called me purple. You know about the lettuce from Iceland right…? The Egyptians do."

"That's great, Shu," Hiro calls over his shoulder. At least his friend has stopped bleeding all over the floor. "So shouldn't you get going? Sounds like you've got your work cut out for you."

"Oh my God has it been _*beeeep* _already! I'm so LATE! Hiro, take me on your bike!"

After a bit of whining, Hiro puts his IPod away and accompanies Shuichi to Yuki's great big apartment complex, which is surprisingly close to the studio. Hiro wishes his pink-haired friend good luck and drives off, whistling some new Bad Luck song in a daze.

As for Shuichi, he gets into the building hesitantly, suddenly not quite as confident. He hasn't brought any sweets after all and he hopes Yuki isn't too mad that he didn't bring a present…then again, wasn't he a wealthy author? Surely he had the means to buy his own sweets! So Shuichi forgets about the gift as he knocks on the door, ignoring the sense of doom that's been growing inside him as he approaches the man's living space. He feels like Death itself is stalking him and it's _creepy_.

The door flies open and Shuichi spots a man – a _hot _man – leaning against the doorframe, cigarette hanging limply from his lips. His hair is messy but no less gorgeous than in its groomed state. His eyes are dark golden and Shuichi finds himself staring into their infinite depths and wishing he could stare into them for the rest of his life. That is, until Yuki throws a heavy medical dictionary at him. Poor Shuichi falls back, blood trickling down from his nose.

"Hey! What was that for, guy?" he yells, wiping the blood on his sleeve. At least he thought of changing before coming – his clothes had been stained red.

"It's for standing in my doorway like a retard and wasting my goddamn time!" he roars, eyes darkening. Shuichi notices dark circles under his eyes – the man is tired, and it shows. His clothes are a mess and he's slumping as if in physical pain.

"I…Tohma sent me!" he explains, thinking Yuki would recognize his friend's name and let him in…

No such luck, Shuichi.

The door slams shut before Shuichi can say another word. He hears the man swearing profusely behind the door but the singer can't make out any distinct words. Undeterred (this was his change to sing with _Ryuichi_!), he knocks on the door more, ignoring the author's demands that he stop. He knocks and knocks until his knuckles are sore and his voice is hoarse from calling Yuki's name like a maniac. The neighbours come out to see what's going on; most move on with their lives, but a few sneaky ones decide to call the tabloids for a bit of money. And luckily for Shuichi, Yuki hears the cat-lady from down the hall talking to a very influential magazine about the boy howling outside Yuki Eiri's door like a mental patient. He yanks the door open and grabs the boy before he can crash into the floor, dragging the singer inside and closing the door with a grunt. He then lets the boy fall on his backside on the hard floor and towers over him, clutching a kitchen knife in one hand. Shuichi's scared but he doesn't back down…

"What do you want, stupid brat?" the writer asks roughly. Shuichi manages to sit up, wincing.

"I told you! Tohma sent me!"

"For what? Sex? Tell him that, unlike him, I am _not _into men…especially not flashy-haired, scrawny, hideous little boys such as yourself." He motions in Shuichi's direction dismissively.

Shuichi would have been insulted had something else not caught his very short and wandering attention.

"Tohma's gay?" he gasps, clapping his hands together. Yuki seems surprised that he's not offended but shrugs it off.

"…bisexual," he finally points out. He's so tired…

"Oh my, that's interesting!" Shuichi squeals. Yuki is appalled at the level which Shuichi's voice reaches when excited or angry. He clamps his hands over his ears and groans, suddenly dizzy again.

"Is it, really? Well, then, why don't you go tell all your equally little friends? The door's there." He points towards the door. He has lost his cigarette sometime during the event and is disgruntled to find that he has none stored in the apartment at the time.

"Oh, I'm not going. I'm here to cheer you up, Mr. Yuki!" the boy squeals again, standing up now and spreading his arms as if expecting a hug or something…Yuki just glares at him, fingers clenching around the kitchen knife. He looked around; no witnesses…

"He hired you to cheer me up?" he wonders aloud. "What is he on…?"

"…sunshine and rainbows?" Shuichi offers, still standing in his pre-hug position. His eyes are purple, Eiri notices. Like amethysts…and they're surrounded by long, long lashes. Like a girl, he thinks.

"Whatever. Can you leave? I've got work to do. Unlike you, I am an active member of society and I do my part for our economy. So go back to school and stay off drugs," the writer offers, now trying to physically remove the pink boy from his home. But Shuichi attaches himself to the writer's side like a leech, smiling as if Yuki had just asked him to have tea and biscuits while watching the sunset. In reality, Shuichi was wondering how someone so cold could be so warm to touch. If Yuki's hands weren't trying to pry him off, the young boy might have fallen asleep, like a cat lying on top of the clean clothes.

"You look so sad, Mr. Yuki! Let me cheer you up, please!"

It hardly sounded like a question, but Eiri found himself considering it for a fleeting moment. Tohma was never going to let this go, not until he was married to a pretty woman and had 2 kids, a stable job and a house in a suburban area. This way, Tohma would leave him alone and the boy would leave after a little while. He might even act like his personal slave if he played his cards just right.

"Alright, tell you what. I'll let you stay if you agree to do everything I say. No exceptions or complaints. I don't want to hear, see or smell you when I'm working or sleeping. Don't touch my kitchen unless I ask you to. Don't squeal anymore, it's goddamn irritating. Don't enter my bedroom at all. Don't put on any loud music, movies or shows. And once you're done here, or Tohma gives up, you get the fuck out. Is that very, very crystal clear?" he asks, eyes narrowed. Shuichi has shrunk away from his somewhat, peering up at him with big violet eyes.

"Yes, Mr. Yuki," Shuichi agrees after a long pause. In truth, the man is a bit irritating with him I'm-The-King-Around-Here-So-Deal-With-It attitude, but for some reason Shuichi gets the feeling he's hiding something. Even though his face appears mad, his eyes tell a different story. They always do. And Shuichi wants to find out who this man is and why he's such an asshole.

"Now be quiet, I'm going to work," Yuki barks before turning around and barricading himself inside the office. Shuichi jumps slightly at the sound of the study door slamming.

Shuichi decides to explore what little of the apartment he hasn't been banned from. He can only see one bathroom, but he guesses that there's one attached to Yuki's room. Shuichi's mother always told him that you can tell a lot about a person when looking at how he decorates, and Yuki's sense of style is completely colorless and, dare he say, dead. It's a bit sad and Shuichi unconsciously starts to worry about the man who acts as though he's not much more than a pet he's watching over as a favour to a friend.

The kitchen is also very boring, and the appliances are brand-new and expensive but unused for the most part. There are beer cans rolling about on the floor and cups of ramen are overflowing from the garbage can. Deciding that Eiri hadn't explicitly told him not to enter the kitchen, he grabs the beer cans and crams them down the garbage bag with the cups and then brings the huge pile out to the large garbage bins outside. He then proceeds to scrub the ash off the coffee table in the living room, dust the television and other places in need of dusting and empty the ashtray. Once everything is spotless, he plops down on the couch with a satisfied smile and admires his handiwork.

Yuki will be so happy! He decides, still proud. Everything will be clean when he comes out.

Three hours later, Eiri steps out of his office. During the time he was working, Shuichi had called Hiro for him to drop off some clothes and other essentials at Eiri's place, which his best friend promptly did, wishing him good luck as he left. To be honest, the young singer wasn't so sure living with a clearly unbalanced man was such a good idea, but something inside him was telling him that Yuki needed him. And who was he to deny a poor soul in need of Shuichi's tender affection?

"…are you my maid now?" the tall man snorts after a short pause in the doorway. He then drags himself to the kitchen and pulls out a can of beer from the humming refrigerator.

"Aren't you happy? It's so much more welcoming now! I was thinking, if you put just a touch of paint on the walls near the door and got some new shower curtains, it would really liven up the place-" he was cut off as a cup shattered close to his head. Yuki had thrown it from his spot in the kitchen. He looked…mad, at best.

"You don't _live _here, you little freak. I don't care what my visitors think, because as far as I'm concerned the least they come, the better. I want to be _alone_. A-L-O-N-E. Do you understand? You can clean all you want but don't you dare _decorate_. You're clearly gay, but no need to infect my apartment with it." And with that the writer went back to his study, slipping on some wire-frame glasses on the way. Shuichi watches him go, mouth agape.

"WHAT! I am NOT gay, you…you…antisocial, aggressive, homicidal writer!" he yelled, kicking the study door, face red with anger.

"I'm so flattered," the author answered flatly on the other side of the door.

Defeated, the young singer went back and sat on the couch before turning on the television and putting the volume as low as it could go and still be heard. He pouted, arms crossed over his chest. What was wrong with that man? He was so…angry.

"I will break you, Eiri Yuki," Shuichi whispers to himself, cackling. "I'LL MAKE YOU SMILE IF IT KILLS ME!" he howls out to the ceiling, and a second after some wolves from the nearby forest reserve join in heartily. He then hears Yuki throw something at his study door before yelling:

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

**This is where you review ^^ **

**You know, a lot of things are a bit boring to write, but not gravitation…the characters are all pretty messed up. **

**Good night…**

**Unknown123190 …**


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